


Keep me Warm

by BergaraHoe (flannelfeelings)



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: "Haunted" lol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Comfort, Confessing Feelings, Denial of Feelings, Feelings, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy oneshot, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Guilt, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oneshot, Panic Attack, Protective Shane, The boys being themselves, Unbeta'd I die like a man, Worried Shane Madej, haunted location, minor injury, ryan bergara - Freeform, shane madej - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flannelfeelings/pseuds/BergaraHoe
Summary: During a cold night on a frightening investigation, Ryan gets hurt.Luckily, Shane is there.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 13
Kudos: 419





	Keep me Warm

**Author's Note:**

> This is dumb idk what it is sorry  
> Unebta'd feelings trash

A chill danced up Ryan’s spine as his boots crossed the threshold of the dingy asylum. They’d been scarier places sure; Waverly Hills Sanitorium and the Old City Jail were probably top contenders as of late. However, this place had a gut-wrenching, eerie vibe that made the hairs on his arms stand up even under three layers of long-sleeves.

The story of this place had kept Ryan up for many nights leading up to this investigation. The building sat nestled back behind a series of dead trees, buried in snow, and the throes of dark winter deepened it’s menacing privacy. _Little Darling Hospital_ was a place where homeless, orphaned and ill children were dumped when there was just nothing else to do with them. The children weren’t exactly treated well. The staff was often negligent, which caused many children to die of starvation or dehydration. Disease was rampant in the halls due to poor hygiene, that funneled in from negligence. There were even a few reports of staff physically abusing the children, but nothing confirmed. The death toll from kids expiring due to ill health was near the thousands for the ten years the building had been in operation.

“Smells like salami.” Shane mused as they entered, grimacing a bit with disgust at the stale odor of the condemned building.

Ryan shot the taller man a disbelieving look, “You’re kidding? You smell Italian meats? I smell fucking dead rats.”

Shrugging, Shane forged ahead, “Perhaps the rats were enjoying a sandwich? I know you’ve seen _Ratatouille_.”

“Can you not talk about _Ratatouille_ while we’re in a literal abandoned asylum?!” But Ryan couldn’t help the small giggle that made its way out of his throat. From behind Mark, TJ let out a quiet snort.

Ryan took a moment to be grateful for the brief distraction from his palpable fear. Shane always knew just how to break the tension and relax the stiffness of his shoulders. But, as soon as the bit was over, the terror was creeping back up Ryan’s body. Despite being a pro at this now, it never seemed to help the anxiety.

 _This will be the time_ , his annoying inner monologue taunted him as it always did, _one of you is going to get hurt!_

 _Shut up,_ he told it, and sent out a quick prayer that if anything happened, it would be him to get hurt, rather than his gangly counterpart.

They set up in a dank hallway by the front entrance, Ryan shivering from the bite of cold. He glanced sideways and caught Shane eyeing him, but the other man quickly looked away, so they didn’t say anything more. 

After Ryan had delved into the gruesome history of the building, Shane doing his best to make light but also appearing unnerved by the horrible occurrences, they cut the camera and stood to prepare for the next step. The building was freezing; cold chills of air wafted through broken windows from the snowy hills outside. 

The overbearing, dark hallways echoed with frigid air, and the steely concrete cut through Ryan’s boots and two pairs of socks. Another shiver coursed through his body as he clenched his teeth to stop the chatter, ice cold hands fumbling with his gear clumsily. 

“Are you alright?” Shane’s voice was suddenly beside him, and Ryan glanced up. The taller man leaned forward and buckled the clasp on Ryan’s chest strap that he’d been struggling with. 

“Thanks.” Ryan breathed, flexing his numb hands with a grimace,“Just really fuckin’ cold.”

Shane, an Illinois native, had had the good sense to wear a pair of black gloves. He looked Ryan up and down with a small smirk, “Little SoCal boy is chilly out here in the snowy Northeast?”

Glowering, Ryan snapped, “We can’t all be cold blooded.”

The taller of the two bellowed out a laugh, and began pulling on his fingers. In two swift motions, he’d slid the gloves off his hands, and was passing them over to a surprised Ryan. 

“What?” Ryan demanded, confused. Shane rolled his eyes, gesturing pointedly with the gloves, “Put ‘em on.” 

Ryan’s brows knit together, “You’re giving me your gloves?” 

“Hey now, this is a loan. I want them back when we leave. These are my good gloves.” 

“But you...you’re letting me wear them?” Ryan was just trying to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. 

Shane rolled his eyes, “No I’m giving them to you to do a fan dance. Just put them on, don’t make it weird.”

Ryan reached out and took the gloves from Shane, who gasped at the feeling of Ryan’s hand on his own. He said, “Hurry up, your hands are fucking arctic!” and then went back to packing up his folding chair and getting his own cameras set up.

Moving in a daze, Ryan pulled the soft fabric of the gloves over his hands, relishing in the warmth that still lingered from Shane’s skin. The gloves were a bit too long for his short, thick fingers as compared to Shane’s long slender ones, but in an instant he was warming up. He finished getting his own stuff ready so they could shoot the next scene. “Thanks for the gloves.” He said to Shane as they began navigating the dark halls in pursuit of visual evidence.

Shane nodded casually, “No biggie. Just don’t get any Bergara fear sweats on them, alright? Cause they really are my favorites.”

“Let me know when your hands get too cold.” Ryan told him, “I’ll give them back.”

During the surprising glove exchange, Ryan had almost completely forgotten about where they were. But as they moved deeper into the seemingly endless halls, that feeling of dread crept back up around him. He swallowed hard, feeling his heartbeat pick up as he imagined the brutal cries of starving children as they wailed for parents that would never come. He shook that off, continuing the scuffle down the empty halls.

The shoot was relatively uneventful; he and Shane bickered over spirit box responses, argued about random noises in the building, and just generally did what they were accustomed to doing on shoots. At around 2AM, Mark, TJ and Devon headed back to the hotel, leaving Shane, Ryan and a security guard alone in the building.

Now the nerves were starting to mount. This would probably be the dirtiest place they’d slept in since Waverly. They’d been in lots of other nasty locations since then, but hadn’t slept there in a while. When the tour company asked if they’d like to, they jumped at the chance. Ryan knew they’d get more evidence the longer they were there. He was starting to regret that decision now.

Shane was unrolling his sleeping bag and snacking on trail mix when Ryan finished setting up his own sleeping arrangements. He sat beside Shane, who offered him the bag of trail mix. Ryan’s teeth were chattering too hard to eat.

“Still cold, Bergmeister?” Shane teased, seeming perfectly at ease in this freezing hellhole. He wore a pair of sweatpants and his boots, with a sweatshirt pulled over his shoulders. He didn’t even seem to be shivering.

“How are you not?” Ryan demanded, yanking his beanie down further over his ears.

Shane shrugged, “I dunno. I guess I’m used to it. We used to go camping in the show back in Chicago. I’d wake up with snow in my asscrack, so, this is really nothing in comparison.”

Ryan chuckled a bit, “Snow in your asscrack?”

Shane’s cheeks turned a bit pink, “Scott’s hand-me-down snow pants were too short for me! They’d ride up and with them...came the elements.”

Now Ryan was really laughing, imaging a clumsy, too-tall Shane running around in tiny snow pants while he shook snowflakes off his ass. Shane was laughing too, and a warmth spread through Ryan’s chest at the familiar feeling of this. Just sitting with his best friend, talking, laughing, ignoring the terrifying surroundings.

Shane’s gloves felt extra warm on Ryan’s hands.

He cringed at the thought; they’d been friends for years, Ryan was not about to do anything to mess it up. Anything like imagining how nice it would be to have Shane’s hand in his instead of the gloves for warmth. Anything like wishing he could curl up in Shane’s sleeping bag and wrap himself around the taller man like an octopus for shelter.

No. He couldn’t have thoughts like that.

But...Shane had loaned him his favorite gloves. Ryan knew Shane’s hands were cold, because they were even starting to have a pucker of redness across his palms and knuckles that matched the one on his nose. But he still hadn’t asked for them back. Why?

It didn’t matter. Nothing could happen, nor did Ryan want it to.

Shane was now curled up in his own sleeping bag, scrolling on his phone half-heartedly as he turned away from Ryan to get some rest. Ryan followed his example, burying himself in blankets in his own sleeping bag, inhaling sharply as he felt the bite of cold concrete beneath his sleeping bag. This would be a sleepless night for sure.

A half hour ticked by as the wind whistled eerily through the dark building. Shane was snoring away, somehow able to sleep in an ice box of horrors. The steps of the security guard patrolling their floor had stopped about fifteen minutes ago, he must be hiding out somewhere warmer. So now it was just Ryan, alone with the wind.

He shuddered, teeth still chattering as he curled in on himself to try to keep warm. He was definitely getting sick after this. He forced his eyes to close, squeezing them shut with so much force he knew he’d never be able to fall asleep that way. Other than the wind, it was quiet for a good four minutes.

Then, a loud _bang!_ Echoed through the room.

Ryan shot up like a bullet, fear choking into his throat. He glanced frantically at Shane, who’d slept through the noise completely.

 _It’s probably just something banging in the wind, would you calm down?_ He sighed gently, telling himself there was a reasonable explanation.

He moved to lay back down when the _bang!_ Crashed out again.

He was up on his feet in an instant, grabbing his camera and swinging around in circles wildly. Even with the light from his camera, all he saw was an empty room.

Ryan debated waking Shane, but he knew if he disturbed the older man’s sleep for something like this, he wouldn’t hear the end of it tomorrow morning. Besides, it was probably just the security guard. Maybe he tripped.

_Bang!_

Ryan was unable to help the small whimper that eked out of his throat at the sound.

“What the fuck?” he said aloud, eyes scanning the room like a wild animal, but unable to detect any tangible threat.

From his sleeping bag, Shane grumbled, but did not awaken. Swallowing hard, Ryan took a shaky step forward.

_Bang!_

“Oh fuck.” He whispered, using the light from his camera to drag another foot forward. He wasn't in control of his numb limbs now, as he pulled the door open and stumbled into the hallway.

_Bang!_

His cold legs carried him in the direction of the noise, tripping and cursing as he made his way toward an opening at the end of the hall. The floor opened up to a landing with giant glass windows, most of which were cracked and smashed.

_Bang!_

Not breathing, Ryan stepped on to the landing, eyes desperately scanning the room for the source of the disturbance.

_Bang!_

The window. It was coming from by the window. He moved closer to the largest one, it was completely demolished by the elements. Surely there was something on the outside of the building crashing against it with the wind.

_BANG!_

Except this time, it was right behind him.

He let out a scream, pitching forward in an attempt to escape the unseen entity. He tripped on a piece of mangled floorboard, stumbling over and grabbing the window sill to steady himself. A sharp pain zigzagged across his palm as he realized he’d grabbed broken glass.

“Ryan!” He glanced up to see that Shane was standing in the doorway of the landing with his maglight. Before Ryan could say anything, Shane rushed forward and grabbed him by the arms, yanking him to his feet and pulling him away from the window.

“Get _away_ from there! What the fuck are you doing?!” Shane was shouting, but his voice sounded so far away and muffled to Ryan’s cotton-filled ears. He could feel the blood running down his hand, and Shane’s vice tight grip on his bicep, but everything else was a numbed sensation.

“Ryan, what the fuck? Hey? Talk to me!”

They were back in the other room, and Ryan was being set down on his butt on the sleeping bag pile. Shane was fumbling around in his bag, looking for something and cursing under his breath.

“Ryan.” Now Shane was close, Ryan could feel cold hands on his face, “Hey? Look at me man.”

He forced himself to focus on Shane’s hazel eyes. Shane nodded once, face slightly illuminated in the darkness by the flashlight he’d hastily thrown on the floor.

“Take a deep breath.” Shane instructed, then gave an example, inhaling and exhaling slowly, “Ry, breathe. Like this.”

Ryan inhaled sharply, the cold air burning his throat as he struggled to steady the rhythm of his chest. He followed Shane’s example, and for a moment they just sat there, Shane’s hands on Ryan’s cheeks, both breathing deeply as they looked into each other’s eyes.

Once Ryan was coherent enough to say, “T-thanks.”

Shane removed his hands and looked at him with disbelief. “Let me see your hand.” Shane simply replied, his voice and expression both unreadable.

Was he angry? Annoyed that Ryan had woken him up? Ryan glanced down at his hand, finally registering the very real pain throbbing through it, and gasped in horror. The skin of his palm was sliced open, small shards of glass visible in the flesh as blood dripped out. But that wasn’t what he was gasping about.

Shane’s glove was ripped down the middle, exposing Ryan’s bleeding flesh. Soaked with blood. Ruined.

“Shane I’m so sorry!” Ryan hissed, tucking the hand against his chest with a pained breath, “I will replace them I swear!”

Shane looked confused for a fraction of a second, then understanding crossed his face, “You’re worried about the _gloves?_ ” He shook his head and grabbed Ryan’s wrist, pulling the injured hand over to him. Gingerly, he peeled the bloody glove off, wincing at the sight of the wound.

“Oh my god.” Shane shook his head, swallowing hard, “We gotta get you to a hospital, Ryan. C’mon, get up.”

“Our stuff.” Ryan argued, gesturing around them, “We have to pack all this up.”

“No way.” Shane was dialing a number on his phone as he grabbed his hat and picked up one of his discarded jackets off the floor. Ryan thought he was going to pull it on his own shoulders, but Shane slung it around Ryan, who already had three on. Shane spoke quickly to someone on the line, then made another quick call before returning to wrap his arm around Ryan’s arms.

“Devon and Teej are going to come back tomorrow morning and get all our crap. There’s an Uber on the way to take us to the ER. Figured it’d be faster than an ambulance since the crew took the car.” Shane handed Ryan a clean sock he’d grabbed out of his backpack, “Wrap this around your palm, and squeeze it.”

Ryan was robotically following the orders. This had all happened so fast and overwhelmingly. How had he even hurt his hand? He couldn’t really focus on anything except Shane’s weary breathing beside him as he led Ryan through the dark halls toward the front entrance. They passed the security guard and Shane yelled to him that they were leaving. The guard began following behind, seeing Ryan’s injured hand and seemed to understand.

By the time they made it to the front, a small Honda was waiting outside the gates. The poor driver was probably scared out of their wits by this call, but thankfully they’d shown up. He barely even heard Shane instructing the driver to take them to the nearest hospital before they’d arrived at the bright flashing lights of the ER. Shane practically threw a wad of cash at the front seat, then pulled Ryan back out of the car.

They were whisked into the ER and quickly brought into a room where they removed the glass from Ryan’s hand and cleaned the wound. Shane was calm throughout the whole ordeal, calling Ryan “little guy” and comforting him whenever the doctor had to pull hard on a glass shard with the tweezers. Ryan’s entire left side was stained with bits of blood, but once the wound was cleaned up it was a much smaller cut than either of them had thought. It only needed 3 stitches.

After Ryan was cleared to leave and Shane and he were waiting outside the ER for their next Uber to take them to the hotel, Ryan glanced up through the dark, cold air to look at Shane. The tall man’s face was a mask of calm, though Ryan could see a hint of hysteria in his eyes. Everything had happened so fast, Ryan was sure Shane had just as much whiplash as he did.

He went to speak, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Sorry I freaked out and cut my hand and ruined our shoot? Sorry you had to tote my catatonic ass to the hospital? Sorry I ruined your gloves?

The ride back to the hotel was another bout of silence. Shane again over tipped the driver, probably to compensate for the late hour. When they made it back to the room, Ryan glanced at his phone, grateful he’d still had it in his pocket when the whole ordeal went down. It was nearly 5AM.

Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, a desperate desire to fall asleep was overwhelming him. However, his guilt and discomfort was overshadowing his lethargy. He’d destroyed Shane’s glove, his favorite gloves, woken the man up and had to involve him in a hospital trip, and probably ruined their entire episode.

“I’m sorry.” Ryan said into the quiet hotel room.

Shane glanced up from the end table where he’d just finished setting the content of his pockets. His brows quirked down in a small frown, “ _You’re_ sorry?”

Ryan grimaced, “I...I ruined the shoot. And your gloves. And the night. I’m sorry, Shane.”

The taller of the two had a somewhat bewildered expression on his usually stoic face. It took him a moment to respond, but after a short silence he replied, “Ryan, do you have _any_ idea how...how scary that was?”

Guilt completely began to drown Ryan, making it difficult to breathe, “I’m sor-”

“There was a noise, then the sound of shattering glass, and you screaming.” A shudder from his lower back danced all the way up Shane’s spine, “Jesus Christ Ryan, I thought you’d fallen down the stairs or something. I was half convinced I’d walk in to find you mangled at the bottom of a staircase.” He closed his eyes briefly, inhaled, then resumed speaking, “But I found you in a pile of broken glass by a shattered window fifty feet up from the ground.”

Ryan was at a loss for words. Was Shane really this angry with him? He supposed he deserved it, but he didn’t exactly need a rehashing of his idiocy.

“I thought you were about to plummet to your death. I thought..” He shook his head, “Fuck. Fuck Ryan. I thought I’d left you alone to die or something.” Shane ran a shaking hand through his sleep-tousled hair, “Why didn’t you wake me up? Why were you on that landing? Why were you impaled on a broken window?”

Feeling like a complete moron, Ryan simply said, “I heard a noise.”

Shane’s expression was waiting desperately for further explanation, but when Ryan said nothing else, Shane spoke again, “So...you heard...a noise and you...decided to juggle glass shards?”

Ryan stifled the small smirk threatening his lips at Shane’s phrasing. Damn the older man’s ability to always lighten his mood. No matter the situation.

“I got...startled.” Ryan admitted, “I...I stumbled and it was dark and cold and I tripped and reached out to steady myself. Reached out too far and grabbed the broken window.”

Shane’s breath blew out slowly, heavily as his shoulders relaxed slightly, “If you heard a noise, why wouldn’t you wake me so I could come with you?”

Ryan grimaced, “I just didn’t want to bother you. I knew you wouldn’t...take it seriously anyway.”

Something passed across Shane’s face, but it was gone before Ryan could pinpoint the emotion. It looked a little...guilty? No. That was ridiculous. What the hell would Shane have to be guilty about?

“I’m sorry.” Shane said softly.

“What?” Ryan demanded, “Why are you sorry?”

“I know I tease you about this ghost stuff a lot…” He sighed gently, suddenly very interested in looking at his shoes, “And no, I don't believe in it. But...I will _always_ be here to help you through stuff like this, Ry. Hell, the part of this job where I get to make you smile when you’re having a rough night…” it looked like the words were physically painful, but Shane continued anyway, “That’s the best part of the gig. Making you smile, I mean.”

Eyes wide, Ryan just stared, trying to form words to properly express what that meant to him. He came up short, just giving Shane the most dumbfounded look he probably had ever pulled.

Shane took a hesitant step closer to Ryan, “And I would _always_ rather be by your side, even if it means getting woken from a sound slumber.” He chuckled dryly, without much actual amusement, “You _really_ have no idea what the thought of you wandering around alone in that dark place is doing to me.”

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked stupidly.

Suddenly, there were warm hands on Ryan’s cheek, and Shane was mere inches away from him. His almond eyes were wide and sincere behind his glasses, and the exhaustion visible on his face shot another ounce of guilt into Ryan’s veins.

Softly, Shane murmured, “I _never_ want to be away from your side again.”

Before Ryan could so much as breathe, the feeling of soft lips pressed against his own. He was frozen for a moment, disbelief choking him up. This couldn’t be happening, right? _Shane Madej_ was not kissing him. This had to be a dream.

But he was. And it wasn’t.

Kicking himself mentally, Ryan kissed back, brushing Shane’s pliant lips with his tongue gently. A small moan smoothed it’s way out of Shane’s throat, encouraging Ryan to deepen the kiss. He felt Shane’s hands move from his face to run through his dark curls, one palm caressing the nape of Ryan’s neck. Ryan moved his own hands to cradle Shane’s hair.

The kiss was interrupted only by the sharp hiss of pain Ryan gasped out when he remembered that his palm was split open and stitched. Shane pulled away faster than a bullet, eyes narrowing at the sight of Ryan’s bandaged hand. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Panting gently, sweating a bit, and both swaying on their feet with exhaustion.

Then, Shane chuckled, a genuine smile breaking out across his face. “Well,” He mused, “I’m glad you...seemed to enjoy that.”

“Me too.” Ryan responded softly, “I didn’t realize you wanted to do that.”

Shane leaned in to plant one quick kiss on Ryan’s forehead, “I’ve wanted to do that for three years. That, and so much more. But after tonight, I can’t go another day without you being mine. If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want!” Ryan replied, maybe a bit too quickly.

“So...wake me up from now on, okay?” Shane said with a small smile.

“Okay.” Ryan promised. He leaned up on his toes to press one more kiss to Shane’s nose, “Thanks for loaning me your gloves. Sorry I ripped them.”

Shane took Ryan’s good hand in his own and squeezed, “You can wear my gloves any time you want. As long as you stay safe, you could rip every pair of gloves I own."


End file.
